His Hermione
by PhoenixFeather25
Summary: A look into Harry's mind during the epic tent scenes. This will be about 4 chapters. HHr.
1. Maybe We Should Stay

Maybe we should stay here, Harry. Grow old…"

Harry felt his heart leap into his throat. His heart raced, his stomach dropped, and every internal organ he had suddenly decided to become acrobats. The possibility of growing old was something he rarely thought about. The possibility of growing old with Hermione, though… He entertained the thought for a moment.

His thoughts brought him to a wonderfully sunny day exactly where the pair sat now. Except there was a house. And children. Three beautiful children playing and laughing just off the front porch of this mysterious house where he sat with Hermione. His Hermione. They were seated on a porch swing with glasses of lemonade in their hands. Hermione set hers off to the side and leaned into Harry, sighing with contentment when he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her hair. He was happy, almost deliriously so. Hermione looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak.

"Harry? Harry? Harry!"

Harry jumped, startled by the volume of the voice. He looked up sharply and was disappointed to see that he was back in the forest, with no house, and no children. Only a tent. A tent and Hermione. His Hermione.

"Have you heard anything I've said in the past five minutes?" Hermione demanded, crossing her arms in frustration.

"Erm, actually, I stopped listening after you suggested growing old here. Together." Harry suddenly found his shoes quite interesting.

If he would have looked up he may have noticed Hermione blush profusely, and smile slightly to herself.


	2. 19 Days Later

_19 days later_

Hermione awoke with a start. Something was wrong, she just couldn't put her finger on it. She illuminated the tent with a candle and shuffled out of her makeshift bedroom into the small living area Harry and herself had finally cleaned; Three people living in a small area for so long wasn't the best way to keep things tidy. Three people… Slip of the tongue, she supposes. Ron had been gone quite some time now. She wonders if he will ever come back. When the words "I hope not" spring to her mind in an unspoken answer to her silent question she visibly flinches. When had she gone from being infatuated with him to hoping he would stay away as long as possible? Yes, Ron is her best friend, as is Harry, but Ron truly pushed her buttons in the way that no other human being could, and she simply hated it.

Her train of thought is derailed as she walks out of the tent and sees that Harry is not there. Panic seeps through her. It has suddenly become very hard to breathe. She races back into the tent, throws on her boots, coat, grabs her wand and is back outside in a matter of seconds. She opens her mouth to call for him, but thinks better of it; there may be people around. Instead, she follows the tracks that Harry's made and doesn't have to walk far before she sees the tip of a wand lit dimly in the distance. She extinguishes her own wand with a "Nox", and retreats behind a tree, praying that the light is her Harry and no one else. A figure walks towards her and she knows it's Harry. She doesn't know how, but it is. Hermione relights her wand and, sure enough, is rewarded with the sight of Harry's face. She lets out a cry of relief and launches herself into Harry's arms. She is quick to retreat, however. Harry is completely soaked, and deathly cold.

"Where in the bloody hell have you been? I walked outside to see if you wanted some tea and you're just gone! No note, no sign of you anywhere! You didn't even wake me!" Hermione cries. She hugs him again, past the point of caring if she gets wet. She hears Harry chuckle slightly as he wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder.

"Warm clothes first, explanation later. We have another Horcrux to destroy." Harry untangles himself from Hermione's vice like grip and walks into the tent.

Hermione follows and once they are inside she casts a warming charm on the both of the. She sighs at the warmth that immediately spreads through her. She sits on the edge of the couch with her legs tucked under her and waits for Harry to be seated on the chair before she begins her interrogation.

"How did you find another Horcrux? What is it? Do we have anything to destroy it? How did you know it was there? Why did you go off my yourself? You could have been killed! Was it really too much work to leave a simple note? Harry, you can't do that! I can't lose you too! Ron's left us, and that's been hard enough, but Harry, you can't leave me too! How am I supposed to destroy Volde-" Hermione's voice becomes louder and more hysteric with each question, and by the time Harry interrupts her she is sobbing and nearly yelling at him.

"Hermione! I'm not leaving. You know me better than that. Come here, love." Harry motions to Hermione.

Hermione rises off the couch and squeezes beside Harry on the chair. It's not the most comfortable fit; her legs are half on his lap, and her torso is sandwiched right up against his, but she doesn't really care at the moment. Harry's free arm wraps around her and she leans her head on his shoulder. She tries to calm herself. Harry is here. Harry is safe. He's with me, and he's not going anywhere. Only these seem to have the opposite effect, and she is now openly sobbing onto Harry's shoulders. He turns her so that she is now quite literally in his lap, sobbing onto her chest with his chin perched on her head. He drops a kiss onto her forehead.

"I'm here, Hermione. I'm not going anywhere. I will be here. Always."


	3. 19 Months Later

_19 Months Later_

"… then I declare you bonded for life." Kingsley stated in his smooth, velvety voice.

Harry looked up and found Hermione's eyes, and grasped her hands tighter in his before pulling her into his arms and dipping her low, kissing her for the first time as his wife. Hermione broke away from the kiss first as she laughed. As Harry stood Hermione back up, he caught Ron's eye. Ron beamed at him, nodded, then came over and enveloped the two newlyweds in a customary hug the trio had perfected over the years.

It was truly amazing how things had finally come full circle; not even two years ago, Ron had found out about Harry and Hermione's relationship. To say that he wasn't pleased was putting it mildly. It was almost hard to tell whom he was angrier with. The trio hadn't spoken for nearly three months, and the media was having a circus with all the drama that circulated the individuals. Helena Abernathy, Rita Skeeter's brunette counterpart, spun tales of lies, deceit, torrid affairs with steamy tent hookups, and an unplanned pregnancy. Once Hermione had been sent a deadly paste of Bubotuber pus and Wolfsbane leaves, Harry had decided that it was time to either put things behind them, or extradite themselves from Ron's life immediately. Of course, Harry told neither Ron nor Hermione about his plan; the last thing he needed was an angry fiancée, and a pissed off best mate. Ultimately, it had all worked itself out quite nicely. Ron and Hermione had quite the row. It lasted a record-breaking three and a half hours, and broke more than half of the dishes Harry had in his flat. Ron emerged with a black eye, Hermione with red, puffy eyes from all the crying. They fought, but as they exited the room Harry had locked them in, they were both smiling and joking as if they were 16 again. Together, Harry, Ron and Hermione squashed all of the rumors Helena had managed to pull out of her arse and gave Xenophilius Lovegood an exclusive on the relationship of the "Golden Trio". It was, to date, the best selling edition the Quibbler had ever printed.

As Harry pulled away from the other two, he noticed the tears running down Hermione's face. He gently wiped them away and placed a gentle kiss on each of her cheeks, then finally her lips. Harry and Hermione turned, hands linked together, as they faced the crowd for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Harry James Potter.

A/N: I have no idea if Bubotuber pus and Wolfsbane creates a paste, let alone a deadly one, so let's all pretend it does, m'kay? Also, I should probably put a disclaimer in here somewhere.

DISCLAIMER: They're not mine. They're Jo's, she just lets me play with them whenever I fancy. Helena Abernathy is mine though!


End file.
